


Together We Will Fly

by kataurah



Category: His Dark Materials (TV), His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Daemon Separation, First Kiss, His Dark Materials Spoilers, M/M, Romance, Spoilers for Book 3: The Amber Spyglass
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-12 01:55:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29002578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kataurah/pseuds/kataurah
Summary: Lee hadn’t put much stock in the Magisterium’s teachings for a very long time - he’d left all of that behind him when he left home - and hadn’t ever presumed to know what might await him after death, but he’d never once considered any kind of existence without Hester. He didn’t want to. What kind of afterlife would force a person to be without half their soul?Lee wondered then if this was hell.
Relationships: John Parry/Lee Scoresby, Lee Scoresby & Hester, Lyra Belacqua & Lee Scoresby
Comments: 6
Kudos: 35





	Together We Will Fly

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ChancellorGriffin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChancellorGriffin/gifts).



> My friend wrote me a thing for our HDM rarepair ship, because we were never going to be able to resist hot adventure dads and the chemistry between these two, phew. So I had to write her a thing too. Her thing is better and less depressing than my thing and you should definitely go read it (https://archiveofourown.org/works/28625523) if you haven't already (but you probably have if you're reading mine because there's unfortunately not a whole lot of fic for these guys. We gotta fix that, and this is my first contribution.) 
> 
> This is sort of both book and tv canon, because it's based on the way these characters have been portrayed in both, I guess, but it does concern events that happen after The Subtle Knife... which is probably a spoiler in itself. Sorry? I wasn't even sure if I should tag it as major character death because they're dead, but also... they're not??
> 
> Anyway. Hopefully y'all enjoy.

_ The wind is at my side _

_ And so are you _

_ And together we will rise _

_ With all these words and promises we couldn't keep _

_ Together we will fly _

_ Above it all now _

"Rise" - The Frames

* * *

Lee awoke gasping: for the first time he couldn’t feel Hester. 

A shudder ran through him and grey mist swam before his eyes, swirling all around him as he struggled to get his bearings.  _ I died _ , was the first coherent thought that formed, a certainty he felt down to his bones.  _ We died. _

Desperately he looked around but knew instinctively, from the sick, hollow ache in his chest, that Hester was not there. 

He was upright, standing though he couldn’t feel any solid ground beneath his feet, but the loss and grief that crashed down upon him then threatened to send him to his knees. Lee screwed his eyes shut in denial and found himself clutching at his chest, pressing as one would a wound, trying to stem the flow of blood he felt should have been there. 

Hester had been torn from him and he should have been bleeding out. 

He remembered then: the two of them slumped behind the rocks, gunshots filling the air, dying in a foreign land. Opening his eyes again, Lee knew that wherever he was now was even further away from home. Further than he ever could have imagined when he first took to the skies all those years ago. A grey and bleak landscape had resolved itself before him, stretching into the far distance beneath darkened skies void of stars. The stars had always been the one constant he and Hester could reply upon to show them the way, and without them - without _ Hester _ , his North Star - he was lost. 

He couldn’t be alive; he felt cold and empty in a way that surely only death could be. He felt insubstantial yet weighted down at the same time, as though trying to move through water. Lee hadn’t put much stock in the Magisterium’s teachings for a very long time - he’d left all of that behind him when he left home - and hadn’t ever presumed to know what might await him after death, but he’d never once considered any kind of existence without Hester. He didn’t want to. What kind of afterlife would force a person to be without half their soul? 

Lee wondered then if this was hell. 

He sucked in another gasping breath he didn’t need, felt the phantom beat of his heart thudding in his chest, and the shaking hand he clapped over his mouth wasn’t enough to stifle the sob that clawed its way from his throat. It didn’t even echo in the empty space and there was not a soul (or even half a soul, he thought, eyes stinging with tears) to hear him. 

_ Why  _ wasn’t there anyone here? 

Part of him didn’t care. Part of him was screaming itself hoarse that if it couldn’t be Hester he didn’t  _ want  _ anyone else. He’d resent their very presence. That part of him wanted to curl up with the pain in his chest and never move again, but Lee could already tell that way surely lead to madness. He didn’t want to be left with this profound loneliness that - thank God - he’d never had to suffer before. He couldn’t do this alone. 

_ Please _ , he begged silently,  _ please, don’t let me be alone. _

“Hello?” His voice cracked a little as he raised it for the first time since awakening in this strange place, but it did not carry. It was as though the air itself swallowed the sound; like a non existent wind carried it away. Lee tried again, nonetheless. “Hello? Anyone there?” 

Nothing. 

He squinted into the gloom, and the world seemed to come into a little sharper focus.  _ There!  _ His eyes caught on movement in the distance, the tiniest, feeble flicker of light, and it stirred his heavy limbs into moving. Sure, it could be his imagination, it was so indistinct, but Lee would rather entertain himself for want of something,  _ anything  _ to do, to distract. 

But before he could take another step a sudden gust of wind out of nowhere buffeted at him from behind and he became aware - in the way one could feel unseen eyes observing them - of a new presence behind him. He turned to see a man standing there when part of him had started to think he might never see another person again. 

And not just any man. Jopari swayed on the spot, eyes wide and unseeing for a moment as he unconsciously clutched his heaving chest in much the same way Lee had done when he’d first come to. Lee’s first instinctive reaction was one of pity and sympathy, for he knew Jopari was feeling the devastating loss of his daemon, before a strange, conflicting wave of grief, confusion and anger began to rise in him. 

He didn’t move immediately, the shock keeping him rooted to the spot, but when Jopari finally came back to himself and became aware of his surroundings, his eyes locked onto Lee’s - dark and intense and familiar - and he breathed what almost seemed a sigh of relief. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” 

The words tumbled out without Lee’s permission, hoarse and strained, and then he was almost tripping over his own feet to close the distance between them. They collided and Lee grabbed onto the other man, twisting his hands into Jopari’s jacket which, after feeling so much like a ghost (which he supposed he _ was _ , in fact) felt shockingly  _ real  _ in his grasp. It felt rough and worn and he swore he could even feel the weave of the fabric against his skin. Jopari stumbled a little when Lee shook him, but all he did was lay his hands calmly on Lee’s wrists, as if to soothe; he didn’t try to break Lee’s grip. 

“Lee -“ He began, but Lee was already talking over him. 

“This wasn’t how it was supposed to go! You were supposed to _ live _ , damn it! You were supposed to...” Fear and panic became a lead weight in his gut. “You said you’d find the knife bearer, you said you’d protect Lyra, you  _ promised! _ ”

His mind was racing. Jopari was  _ here  _ and he was dead, just like Lee, and Lyra was out there unprotected, possibly with no one on her side, no one to rely on. She and Pantalaimon were alone and lost and the Magisterium was crossing worlds, raining down hell and gunfire and - 

“Lee, it’s alright!” Jopari’s face was as earnest as he’d ever seen it. He moved a hand to grip the back of Lee’s neck and then there was no way to pull away from the other man’s hypnotic eyes. Not that Lee found he even wanted to. The touch brought flickers of warmth he’d thought lost to him forever; it was intimate, and uncharted territory between the two of them, but somehow it felt like the most natural thing in a world that was nothing but unnatural. “It’s alright!” Jopari continued, “I found him! Well, he found  _ me! _ ” He smiled ruefully, “Of course he did...” 

Lee was by no means in the mood for the shaman to start being cryptic again now, of all times. “The hell are you -“

“My son!” Jopari cried, tightening his grip on Lee - his shoulder, the crook of his neck. “My son has the knife, Lee! I never could’ve imagined - But it makes perfect sense...” 

He trailed off and Lee could tell he was spiralling, lost in that unfathomable mind of his, thinking faster than the words could form. He loosened the rough grip he had on Jopari’s coat and instead squeezed his shoulders in what he hoped was a grounding, comforting gesture, desperate to get the man’s attention back on track. 

“Mr Jopari?” He sounded breathless, despite little logical need for breath in his lungs, impatient and hoping against hope. 

Jopari smiled, genuine and warm despite the pain and fatigue Lee knew was mirrored in his own eyes. “He’s with your Lyra. Will’s with Lyra, he has the knife, and he’ll keep her safe.” 

“He’s with...” It took a moment for the words to sink in, but then Lee’s body went almost boneless with relief. He slumped forward, holding on to the other man now for support, and Jopari caught him, hands curled under his elbows, their bodies pressed together, seeking the echo of life and flesh. It felt right, Lee thought, being drawn together this way... in death just as in life, really. 

Somehow he choked out, “She’s under the knife’s protection?” 

“ _ Yes, _ ” The man said emphatically, and Lee’d be damned if he’d ever believed anyone’s convictions as much as he did Jopari’s right then. “She’s alright. She’s with Will.” He paused as though considering the weight of his next words; the heartache and pride at war within him. Lee could relate. “It’s up to them now. But he’ll do right by her - by the world, by all the worlds - I know he will.” 

Lee couldn’t even begin to really understand what Jopari was talking about. His only mission had been to protect the shaman ( _ Yeah, and a real swell job you did there _ , said a voice in his head that sounded like Hester, and for a moment he couldn’t breathe) so that he, in turn, could bring protection to Lyra. But the man was looking at him now, closer to Lee than he’d ever been before, and his eyes were wide and glistening, his expression urgent but resolved, and Lee realised that he was trembling. 

He knew then, with dread and with pride, that whatever remained for Lyra and Will to do was of monumental importance, and for them alone. He was afraid for them - so damned afraid and _ useless _ , his help no longer within their reach - but a fierce, unshakable belief was swelling within him, as it always did at the thought of Lyra and her seemingly limitless bravery, resourcefulness and compassion. If anyone could do what needed to be done, it was her. 

Then Jopari, perhaps reading whatever unguarded emotion was crossing his face, leaned even closer and murmured, “Our children, Lee,” and something in Lee broke. 

His laugh was half choked by the sob he didn’t bother trying to suppress this time. “Well... ain’t that the damnedest thing?”

He’d never cried in front of anyone other than Hester before, and the thought of her, the pain of her absence, made him want to break down all the more. There might not have been blood pumping through his veins, nor air in his lungs, but Lee felt the wetness of tears clinging to his eyelashes, threatening to run down his face, and those were  _ real.  _ They were proof of the strength of his tie to Hester, to Lyra and Will, even though he’d never even met the boy. To Jopari, even, standing right in front of him, whose hand was warm, still curled around the side of Lee’s neck, a thumb stroking absently at the corner of his jaw. 

“They’re going to save everyone.” 

Lee sighed and closed his eyes, allowing himself the small comfort and solace of the touch. “I sure hope you’re right, Mr Jopari.” 

Surprisingly, the other man gave an amused huff and was smiling fondly when Lee looked at him again. “We’re dead, Lee,” He said bluntly, “I think we can drop the formalities. Call me, John.” 

Lee felt an answering grin tugging at his mouth, a snort escaping, because, yes, when you really got down to it, the whole situation was just… ridiculous. Tragic, sure, but well, what else was there to do but try find the morbid humour of it all? 

“John,” He repeated, thinking again of how this easy, burgeoning intimacy between them had always been there in a way: an innate understanding, their differences not quite as abundant as they first appeared, a spark waiting to catch fire. All too late now; all regret and wasted potential. He imagined Hester calling the other man  _ John  _ too, imagined her being relaxed and familiar with John’s own osprey daemon... 

Once again, it seemed, their thoughts were in alignment, or perhaps it was the shaman in him, Lee thought, picking up on his thoughts and emotions where Lee usually tried to remain calm, indifferent. 

Was there even any point to that anymore, though? 

John sucked in a breath and let it out tremulously. “I can’t feel her anymore.” He, of course, didn’t have to explain who he meant; he was still shaking and Lee, aching with sympathy, ran a hand up and down his arm; it wouldn’t do a damn thing to ease the agony of what was missing, Lee knew, but he didn’t know what else to do. “It’s so strange,” John continued, “I lived most of my life without having known Sayan Kotor, but now that she’s gone -“ 

His voice broke on a sob, face scrunched up in pain, and nothing could’ve stopped Lee then from closing the small remaining space between them and pulling John into his arms; the urge to comfort and be comforted was just too strong to resist. 

Perhaps it should’ve been awkward. Perhaps he should’ve given the other man some kind of warning or, hell, at least asked permission, but neither of them seemed to care. The second Lee pressed him close, John clung to him just as tightly, one hand still curled around the nape of his neck, the other gripping his leather jacket almost desperately at the small of Lee’s back. He felt as much as heard John’s sigh in the heave of his chest against his, the soft exhalation next to his ear. Whether the breath was real or not didn’t matter, it  _ felt  _ real. John felt like the only real, solid thing in the world anymore. 

“I can’t imagine how  _ you  _ must be feeling,” John whispered, and Lee felt a raw, wounded sound trying to escape, clawing it’s way up from the awful, wrenching hollow space in his chest...

He buried his face in John’s shoulder instead - the crook of his neck that Lee thought should have smelled of sweat and blood and the heavy air before a thunderstorm, but there was nothing - muffling the sound into a whimper. John let him hold on tighter and threaded those slender, tattooed fingers into the hair at the back of Lee’s head, just as Lee would always run his own through Hester’s soft fur. And  _ oh _ , how Lee ached for her: for her voice, her presence, the warmth of her spirit entwined with his. John’s embrace could not make up for her absence, but neither did Lee think he’d want the other man’s touch any less if their daemons had been there. They clung to each other because of the pain in part, but they both knew they weren’t trying to replace what was gone. 

Lee became aware that John was whispering “I’m sorry” over and over again, almost like a mumbling chant, as though he were trying to summon the elements again. As though he could summon their daemons in much the same way. 

“I’m sorry, too,” Lee finally murmured, and something within him had him lifting his head, pulling back only just enough to meet John’s wet, red-rimmed eyes; he imagined his own looked similar. “Your Sayan... she was a part of you that was always there, even if you couldn’t always see her. I don’t reckon your pain to be any less than mine.” 

He was surprised he even managed to get the words out, past the emotion clogging his throat, but it was suddenly important to Lee that John know he’d never think his bond with his daemon could be any less, or diminished somehow. John simply looked at him for a moment, eyes shining, before there was a gentle pressure from that hand still in Lee’s hair, bringing their foreheads to rest together. Lee closed his eyes and they inhaled a simultaneous, shaky, shared breath, revelling in the connection, the pull they’d felt ever since John had first summoned Lee to him across oceans and skies. 

“I feel like we were meant to find each other here again, Lee,” John said, his words hushed and intimate even though they were alone. “Something’s telling me we aren’t done.” 

“I can’t be done,” Lee whispered, “Not ‘tilI I find Hester. Not ‘till I know Lyra’s safe and it’s over.” 

“We’ll find them,” John’s fingers were stroking soothingly through his hair again, and Lee knew he meant all of them: Hester, Sayan Kotor, Lyra and Will.  _ Somehow _ . “Wherever Sayan is, I hope her spirit is drifting with Hester’s, waiting for us. I hope she’s teaching her how to soar.” 

Lee had to give a quiet chuckle at that, and raised his head to grin, “I promise you, Hester already knows a thing or two about flying.” 

John returned his smile ruefully, conceding with a nod, “Fair point.” 

The man’s smiles were so rare, Lee had always been struck by the beauty of each one, whether it be wry or teasing or enigmatic. He found himself thinking that for as long he was still allowed to look upon John Parry, he would try and draw them from him as often as possible. But already he could feel the moment growing bittersweet, that sadness stealing back into John’s eyes that mirrored Lee’s own. Again, there was Hester - a part of his every thought and every memory - and the absence of her. He wanted to fall forward into John’s arms again so that they could hold each other up for a while longer, help to bear the weight of each other’s grief. He wanted the anchor of John’s touch, the warmth his skin somehow still seemed to carry despite the cold wasteland surrounding them. 

Lee briefly thought about kissing him, of chasing that warmth and licking hot and hungry into John’s mouth, wondering if he could heat their blood and stir that same desire he’d felt when he’d looked at him in life. But if he  _ were  _ to kiss John, he’d want to do so for more than a means of distraction. What he wanted... 

God, he  _ wanted  _ to have done all this when they could feel  _ alive.  _

So instead he said: “Don’t suppose I’ll ever fly again.” 

The look that crossed John’s face was full of such tenderness and sympathy, and he was quiet for a moment as his eyes traced carefully over Lee’s features as though memorising him; as he often had done before when it came to this man, Lee felt exposed but unable to look away. 

“One day we’ll leave this place, Lee,” He said, as though choosing his words carefully, one hand cupping the side of Lee’s face and continuing before Lee could question him. “Don’t ask me how or why... I only know that you and I aren’t done yet. But when we are, when we can rest... I’ll give you the wind so you can fly. We’ll be with Sayan and Hester and we can fly together again.” 

And, well... how was Lee not supposed to fall a little bit in love with him after that? 

And when he kissed him - unable to stop himself this time - he did so with all the emotion burning in his chest and behind his closed eyes that he feared he would never feel again. 

He surged forward and John seemed to sigh into the kiss with his whole body, his mouth opening against Lee’s, slow and deep, fingers gentle against his face. Lee buried his in John’s longer mess of hair, cradling his head whilst pressing ever closer, wanting to discover just how close two spirits could be in this world. They took their time, exploring leisurely; Lee felt John’s lips curl into a smile and swore he tasted like coffee and iron and thunderstorms. 

Perhaps if they were different people - if they weren’t travellers or fighters or fathers or missing pieces of themselves - they could’ve been content to stay like that forever and make their own peace. But they had things to do and a strange, new world to understand, and so, by some unspoken agreement, the kiss eventually ended. 

Lee licked his lips, already chasing the sense memory as the warmth began to fade, and met John’s gaze, darker and more intense than ever, even in the grey, dull light. 

Lee shivered and breathed, “Well...” 

And John echoed, “Well,” with the smallest flicker of amusement. 

Damn it, words had never been his expertise - he was, after all, a man of action - but Lee had never been so frustrated by that fact nor considered it a failing before. 

“Can’t say we’ve found ourselves in the most ideal of situations here...” 

_ Master of understatement,  _ said Hester’s ghost in his head, like she was rolling her eyes.

“But, John...” Lee searched for the words in earnest. “I wouldn’t want to be without you.” 

He hoped John heard what he was and wasn’t saying. How could he possibly express how much the thought that, despite everything, John had died too grieved him, but how grateful he was to have him there with him? How it hurt to think he was suffering the same pain as Lee himself, but John’s presence, his words, his touch brought him strength, comfort, and,  _ yes,  _ love. 

John took his hand, “Nor I you, Lee,” and Lee knew he understood. 

He squeezed the fingers wrapped around his own, “You don’t let go, you hear?” 

And John returned the grip, “I’m with you.” 

Together, they walked into the unknown. 

**Author's Note:**

> P.S. BTW I found out the other day that the name Hester really means “star”, so have fun crying with that like I did


End file.
